


the pokemon au to end all pokemon aus

by newchips_samesalsa



Category: Original Work, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Trauma, Yeast - Freeform, crack fic treated vaguely seriously, he pikas in his sleep, im so very sorry :), parental abandonment :0, someone here is crazy, trigger warning: death of a pikachu, wheat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21821683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newchips_samesalsa/pseuds/newchips_samesalsa
Summary: Scene: dramatic cellar. He's crouched on the floor crying his eyes out because the only thing he cared about, his beloved pikachu is dead"Transformative work." - Soniちゃん
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	the pokemon au to end all pokemon aus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LegitFanficHours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegitFanficHours/gifts).



> for my soniちゃん. ily <3
> 
> and johnathan, this is the hell you must suffer through.

Grayn slept soundly at his place on the floor, curled up and letting loose a few pikas here and there. Wayson laughed lightly, petting the pikachu's back in circular motions, humming a song his mother used to sing while she cleaned. He could hear a faint pitter-patter upstairs. He froze.

He rose to his unsteady feet, walking up the stairs, stepping lightly, fear holding his heart hostage like a spider, constricting and leaving him sickeningly breathless. He pushed the door open slightly, peering out into the darkness, seeing nothing but faint outlines of his furniture. He resisted the urge to call out, slinking into the hallway and peeking around the wall, staring into the living room, finding no one. The tension left his body minutely, letting him step forward, glancing around.

"Hello?" he said, feeling a wave of unease, the tension rewinding around his lungs, pulling, squeezing, robbing him of breath. His nerves screamed at him to turn around and back down into the cellar. Something was wrong wrong wrong.

Grayn shrieked. Wayson bolted, stumbling down the stairs, nearly falling in haste to see, help, heal his pokémon.

He inhaled sharply, choking on the air he hadn't been getting.

There he was, his pikachu, his being of bubbling electricity, limp on the floor, lightning flickering weakly off the red spots on his cheeks, his eyes tracking nothing at all with desperate fear. But no. Something. Something made of shadows and darkness.

He rushed forward, tripping over his feet, ignoring the dark looming figure against the wall, scooping up Grayn, fumbling for the Hyper Potion he'd been saving for moments like this. But not really like this, because he knew knew knew he'd need a Full Restore for something like this, but he didn't and would never have that many Poké Dollars, never in his wildest dreams.

He sprayed it on Grayn, using it all and pulling him close. He whispered prayers, calling upon something greater than him, wishing hoping praying his pokémon, the friend who kept him sane through the abandonment of his mom, the death of his dad, would be safe and okay and alive.

Grayn looked up at him with pained eyes. "Pika pika?"

"You're okay, Grayn, you're okay." He rummaged through his medicine pocket for something, anything, but came up empty. "You're okay, Grayn."

"Pika pika," Grayn said sadly, his red cheeks sparking, the electricity arching toward the shadow he'd momentarily forgotten about. "Pikachu!"

"Who are you?" Wayson hovered protectively over his friend, glaring at the shadow man. Grayn's lightning became controlled again, simply dancing across his cheeks again, low in voltage and brilliance.

"I am everything you have been ignoring, Wayson." The shadow stepped into the light, and he was so indescribably horrifying, a mess of sagging skin and rotting muscle. Its mouth cut up across his cheeks, leaving its mushy teeth on full, unabashed display. The thing didn't have eyes, but something was boring into his soul, making him feel small small small.

"What does that mean? You're crazy!"

"You believe that?" the being said, suddenly becoming pristine. Young and athletic and lazily spinning a pokeball on his finger. Whole, without signs of decay and putrefaction. "Insanity is a social construct. Therefore, nothing is real."

"Those things don't correlate, get the fuck out of my house," Wayson said through gritted teeth. Grayn was so cold, cold in his arms, such a sharp contrast from his fervent electricity skin that zapped him when he got too excited. The sun reduced to ashes.

The man hummed, leaning forward, and suddenly there was a desk. Was this man magic or was Wayson going crazy? "They do correlate. Open your eyes, Wise King mine. You are meant for things greater than some stupid pokémon."

"He's not some dumb pokémon, get out of my house."

"Or what. You'll fight me?"

The pokéball rolled out of his hand, a Rayquaza forming out of a blob of white light. It towered over all of them, mouth opened to bare wickedly long and sharp teeth. Wayson had no doubts that it could tear right through him and devour him. He had no doubts that it wanted to.

It was gone just as quickly, leaving only him and the man and Grayn. Grayn, who was quickly becoming colder. Grayn, who he couldn't help.

His best friend was dying and look how useless he was.

"Why bother over that pokémon, Wayson?" The man was before him in a flash, at eye level. He was older now, wrinkles around his eyes and face worn, but he wasn't disgustingly wretched, and that was the small silver lining.

"He's my friend—"

"He's a pokémon—"

"He's my pokémon, you fucking bastard, get out of my house, you shithead."

The man sighed, the pokéball spinning madly in the air, unprompted, and he was scared that the Rayquaza would come back and kill him, or worse, finish off Grayn. 

"You aren't getting it," the man said, eyes focused on the pokéball that hung suspended.

"Obviously I'm not, you crazy fuck." Wayson pressed his hands against Grayn's flickering cheeks. Little sparks shot through him, but he ignored the faint pain, terror gnawing through his stomach, making him feel sick.

"Maybe you will if that is gone."

"What?"

The cold became ice and he paused, glancing down, terrified confusion making him dizzy, dizzy. Wayson sucked in a breath, whispering quickly under his breath, the roiling understanding crushing him. "No. No. No, no, no, no, nonononono."

He clutched Grayn close. His oldest and best friend, his electric sun, gone cold dead. He rocked back and forth, the icicle that made up his pikachu searing into his skin, making him equally empty and null.

He was crying, he realized distantly, tears running down his face in rivers, landing on Grayn. Grayn, who was never supposed to die, who was supposed to be there forever, who should be alive alive alive.

Your fault, your fault, your fault. A mantra of echoing despair and truth.

It was his mom leaving all over again, it was his dad taking a bullet for him, it was everything happening again and again and again, only worse because Grayn had actually liked him to begin with and his parents never did.

"Do you understand now?" 

He sobbed, sobbed as his hands patted Grayn's face in some delusional attempt to help help help, but he couldn't ever again. The fear turned into a snake and squeezed at his lungs, and he couldn't care, because what was the point if Grayn was dead?

The man's hands were on his head, petting and soothing, comforting when he was the reason Wayson was crying in the first place, like he didn't know, or care.

He was nothing.

His mom left.

His dad died.

Grayn was dead.

And there was this strange man telling him that now he understood.


End file.
